


The Sound of Silence

by Zhie



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birds, Gen, Loneliness, Redemption, Stand Alone, Talking Sense into One's Stubborn Grandfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Celebrimbor returns, and seeks out his Grandfather in Valinor.





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for youngman-willow 
> 
> The request: (Celebrimbor, Feanor, Celebrian, Elrond. In terms of preferences and prompts, they told us: I would really like a fic about reembodiment and healing in Valinor
> 
> Among other items mentioned later, it was suggested that Celebrimbor would have a voice much like heard in 'The Sound of Silence' by Disturbed, so I wrote this while listening to the album that song is on (hence the title).

Celebrimbor looked at the house again. It was an old, tall building--a tower, really--cast in shadow from the heavy branches of the overgrown oaks and ash trees spread over the property. Nothing else was visible in the darkness, but in the light of day he knew he would see the stronghold of Formenos from where he stood. So, too, would be able to see the mountains with all their definition, but now he only knew them as what blocked out the stars. The night was reckless, with wind whipping the branches from side to side, causing the decrepit fence to creak. 

Another gust rushed around Celebrimbor and his two travel companions. His horse stamped a foot and snorted. Celebrimbor turned to his left. “He lives here?”

Celebrían, who was upon the horse in the middle of the trio, nodded as Elrond, the third member of the party, pulled his cloak tighter. “It may not seem to suit him, but it has seemed to me to reflect his sadness and remorse.” They had traveled together after a happy reunion betwixt the three of them. Once close friends during the height of the Second Age, the loss of Celebrimbor had greatly affected both Elrond and Celebrían. Only now, with Celebrimbor returned and Elrond recently arrived were they able to once again renew their friendship. 

Celebrían, once the youngest and known to be inquisitive and curious of all they knew, was their guide in Valinor. After a lengthy period of healing, she was drawn into the Noldorin Court in Tirion, and hence, knew everyone there was to know--their whereabouts, history, and so much more. This included the fact that Fëanor had indeed been returned (no matter what the prophecies declared would happen), that he lived in Formenos, and had hermitted himself away from everyone. 

“Do you think he is home?” asked Celebrimbor. The tower was dark and appeared abandoned. Shutters hung from rusted hinges and slapped the side of the building as the wind danced over them. Dry leaves were trapped under thorny bushes that had no particular form to them. It was so different from the estate in Formenos, the home where Celebrimbor was born and grew up. There, despite the cold, everything was in such supreme order. Brass doorknobs were polished daily; windows were spotless. He recalled momentarily the maid who would follow after him and scrub away the evidence of his fingerprints on glass doors or the slightest hint of mud on a floor left behind from a romp through the courtyard with his uncle’s great canine companion, whom Celebrimbor rode like a furry horse. 

Elrond pointed to a window on what was likely the fifth story. “I think I saw movement. He is likely watching us.” A moment later, Elrond stifled a sneeze.

“I had that feeling as well,” admitted Celebrían. “We can see if there is a bell at the door. Or we can try knocking.”

Celebrimbor hunkered down as another gust of wind disrupted their conversation. “I think I need to do this on my own,” he said. He dismounted and looked up at Celebrían. “The two of you should ride back. Give me a week.”

“What if he refuses to let you in?” questioned Celebrían. “Surely you do not intend to stand here until he does. An entire week? You have done some ridiculous things, Celebrimbor, but honestly--”

“I know him well enough. He will not leave me out here,” Celebrimbor said confidently. He held the reigns of his horse out to Celebrían, who took hold of them with some reluctance. “One week.”

“What if you end up out here all alone for the whole week?” prodded Celebrían.

“Then I guess I get to see what it was like for my kin who had to cross the Helcaraxë.”

Celebrían looked to Elrond to see if he would veto this action, but Elrond gave a nod. “One week.” They exchanged temporary farewells, and then Celebrimbor was left with a dark tower on a dark night.

He approached the tower with caution, and decided to circle around it before he came back to the front door. It was really the only door. According to Celebrían, it had been a beacon tower, built in the First Age when there was some fear among certain groups of Noldor and Vanyar that the Noldorin host that had left Valinor might cause those in Middle-earth to attempt an exodus to Valinor. Several such towers were scattered across Valinor, and none of the others were inhabited. How Fëanor had come to take this as his home seemed unknown, except for the consideration that it was Fëanor, and was it really worth the argument to tell him that such a place was not meant to be residential?

Celebrimbor did find a cord to pull a bell, but only succeeded in pulling a piece of brittle rope from the building. With a frown, he attempted to knock, but with the whistle of the wind it was doubtful it had been heard. At points when the wind died down, he gave a great shout, calling to anyone in the tower who might hear him. As a last resort, he picked up some small stones and targeted the window where movement had been seen previously. 

After nearly two hours of failed attempts, Celebrimbor walked back so that he could take in the full tower. Something at the apex caught his attention, and he squinted. There was movement, but it did not seem Elven. As he concentrated on this, he heard a strange call from behind him, and upwards. As he turned his head, he saw a great white and grey owl flying toward the tower. It beat its wings and coasted on the current until it was just over the tower, and then swooped down. Something appeared to have been carried in the bird’s talons, but it was difficult to see exactly what the owl had.

For the better part of the next hour, Celebrimbor observed the sky and the top of the tower, but there was nothing more for him to see, and so he went back to the door. His cloak was thick, and he needed no campfire to keep himself warm. Once he had the hood drawn over his head, Celebrimbor braced himself against the cold as best he could and drifted into a dreamless state until the sunlight announced the dawn of the day.

To Celebrimbor’s delight, the wind was far less now than it had been when he arrived. That did not completely abate the cold. Once again, Celebrimbor made attempts to make his presence known. This time he added whistling, but none of his methods led to a response. 

In the light of day, Celebrimbor was able to survey the area around the tower. There was a well, and it was recently used, and this gave him hope. If nothing else, his grandfather would eventually need water, and it made Celebrimbor consider waiting here instead of at the door. He helped himself to the cold, clear water before he wandered about to see what other supplies might be available. Trees were plentiful, which meant branches for firewood, and depending on the tree, fruits or nuts during the warmer part of the year. 

Game was sparse, but not entirely missing from the terrain. Tracks from deer and rabbits were easy to see, and even a bear, if his grandfather was that adventurous (which he probably was). There were even some bushes with winter berries that Celebrimbor recognized from his childhood. He remembered the lessons with his uncles, and how Maedhros and Maglor would show him which plants were edible, and which he had to avoid putting into his mouth.

Not far from the tower, the daylight showed Celebrimbor a fast running stream, and in it, a variety of fish. Surprised that the water was shallow and unfrozen, Celebrimbor reached in to learn that some sort of hot spring must have been at the source, for the water was warmer than the air. As he continued to follow the path upstream, steam rising from the water further confirmed this. A stick sharpened with a knife provided an almost instant spear for fishing, and Celebrimbor easily used a technique taught to him by Ereinion to stab a fish and fling it on the shore. 

Today, Celebrimbor decided on a fire, and built it a fair distance from the tower. He needed to cook his breakfast, and he hoped that if nothing else it would signal to his grandfather that he intended to stay as long as he needed in order to gain admittance. 

Celebrimbor’s vigil continued for five more nights. Each day was the same, with him exploring more and more of the area around the tower between attempts to gain entry, or at the very least, and audience at the door. It gave him time to reflect on his first life, and all of the things he missed about being in a corporeal form. It also gave him time to think on his actions, some good, and some bad. “And some damned stupid things,” he muttered to himself. While his grandfather was the person he most wanted to speak with now that he was in Valinor again, another was on his mind. 

Celebrimbor and Galadriel had once been close--extremely close. They had the sort of relationship where one would start a sentence and the other would finish it. They simply knew each other so well that they could sit in companionable silence for hours at a time, and find it absolutely enjoyable. 

Then came Annatar. 

Celebrimbor sighed audibly as another set of thoughts and feelings flooded his mind. There was so much he wanted to say to Galadriel, not the least of which was, “I was wrong, you were right”. Someday. Someday he would gather the courage to seek her out. He had made hints to Celebrían, but Celebrimbor knew he was not quite ready for that encounter. Not yet. Baby steps.

His frown turned into a smile. His first steps were taken at Formenos. His father had been out hunting with his uncles, leaving Celebrimbor with his grandfather. Fëanor was making a giant pot of soup that would more than feed the brood and provide leftovers for Huan. Celebrimbor was following his grandfather around the kitchen on all fours, but it was tedious and required frequent stops to sit back and look up at what was happening. Eventually, Celebrimbor got it into his little, maturing mind that everyone else used their hands for things other than crawling, and maybe he should, too.

There was such excitement from his father and uncles when they returned to find Celebrimbor clinging to Fëanor’s leg while the soup was being ladeled out for everyone. It was an impromptu celebration--and Celebrimbor’s first memory. 

Celebrimbor sucked in the cold air and wiped away a tear. So badly did he want to see his grandfather, first in his mind from that first memory that he clung to. His grandfather had such grief during those years in Formenos, but it always seemed to Celebrimbor that his grandfather was cheerful when he was there. Indeed, there were times when either his father or mother or even his Uncle Celegorm would encourage him to seek out his grandfather to talk to him because the mere sight of Celebrimbor would give Fëanor a sliver of hope that things would be better eventually.

Dusk was starting to settle around him. Celebrimbor knew that the next day would bring Celebrían and Elrond back for him, and he leaned his head back against the outside of the tower in defeat. Tonight he gave up on contact. He had run out of stones, and his throat was too sore to whistle or call out because of the cold. As he had the first night, Celebrimbor drew up his legs and tried to ignore the cold and wind around him.

Only as he was about to doze off did a sound awaken him fully. He looked up, and there at the open door, was his grandfather. They stared at each other for a minute. Fëanor had a wooden bucket in his hands, which he worried as he turned it and considered his words. Finally, he said, “The door has no lock,” before he trekked out from the open doorway to the well.

Celebrimbor scrambled to his feet. As an extra precaution, he edged slightly into the doorway so that Fëanor could not readily close the door when he returned. Fëanor did not take long, and soon was eyeing up Celebrimbor. “Are you coming or going?” asked Fëanor.

“May I come in?” asked Celebrimbor.

Fëanor motioned into the house, and they both entered. As stated, there was no lock on the door, and Fëanor walked further in to set the bucket onto a counter of what was clearly a makeshift kitchen. “Tea?” asked Fëanor as he took a kettle from a shelf. Celebrimbor nodded, and it was all the conversation they had until the water boiled and Fëanor handed a cup to Celebrimbor. A moment later, Fëanor left the room, and Celebrimbor followed.

They made it halfway up the tower before Fëanor stopped at a landing and turned to face Celebrimbor abruptly. “Why are you here?”

“Because I recently left the Halls and I wanted to see my family. I was disappointed when I arrived in Tirion to find that you were not there. Why are you here?”

Fëanor lifted a brow at Celebrimbor’s words. “You expected me to be in Tirion.” Celebrimbor nodded. “I never really fit in there,” he countered and continued up the next flight of stairs.

“Everyone misses you,” said Celebrimbor. “Your sons...your father...your wife...me.”

At that last word, Fëanor stopped and hung his head with a sigh. “I belong here,” he mumbled and once again resumed his climb.

“Everyone there talks about how you asked forgiveness when you returned. They talk about how the Halls changed you, and how refreshing it was--and how you left as soon as people accepted your apology.”

“What else was I to do? Stay and garner their pity?”

“No one there is going to do that. You are missed.” Celebrimbor had to speed his steps, for now Fëanor was taking the stairs two at a time. “You are loved!”

At a door, Fëanor turned his head to look over his shoulder. “It is better this way,” he insisted. He turned the knob, and a strong wind blew down the stairway at Celebrimbor. “Are you coming?” Fëanor asked.

Celebrimbor hesitated, but pushed on ahead and exited onto the roof of the tower. As he looked around, he tried to put together what he was looking at. There were wooden posts placed in various spots, and pieces of wood attached running perpendicular to the posts. There were also some structures that looked like cages with wooden boxes in them. Each wooden box had a single round hole in it. It was only when the owl he had seen the other day swooped down to land on one of the pieces of wood that he realized these were perches, the boxes were for nesting, and that his grandfather had an aviary.

Had seemed very appropriate as Celebrimbor looked around. His hands clutched the cup of tea, which was beginning to cool rapidly. “Do you raise birds up here?” asked Celebrimbor.

“I used to,” Fëanor said. He went to the owl and petted her head. “She is the only one left.”

“What happened to the others?” asked Celebrimbor.

Fëanor scanned the area he was in. “I let them go.”

Celebrimbor tilted his head. “How did you come to have them?”

“I started with an injured sparrow. I nursed him back to health. When he was ready to leave...I was alone here.” Fëanor looked around. “Did you know you are the first person to come and visit me? Even my own sons will not come here.”

“I think they want to see you. I think they thought you wanted space, to have come out here.” Celebrimbor chose his words carefully. “Would you like to see them?”

Fëanor shrugged. “They do not want to see me.” Fëanor studied Celebrimbor, and then said, “Just like my birds, they would not stay now, given the chance. I left them, and they never tried to find me. It is better this way.”

“What happened to the birds?” asked Celebrimbor when Fëanor stopped talking. 

Fëanor walked away from the owl and went to look over the edge of the tower. “Once the sparrow healed, he was better a little while. Then he took ill again, but without signs of a sickness. I realized he needed more of his kind. I caught another, and they were happy for a little while. Then the same thing happened--they would not eat, and they were lethargic. So I built a place for them on the roof, and these, for them to raise their young. Two became five, and then I needed mates for their young, and before I knew it...there were many here.”

“How many sparrows did you have?” asked Celebrimbor.

“Who knows. Dozens.” Fëanor strolled to some larger cages. “Not just sparrows. Robins, crows, pigeons, ducks, egrets--eventually, there were so many birds here, I lost count. And...then a group of ravens managed to open their cage one day, and they were gone. I thought they would fly back, but they never did. So I thought, I would test them all. I would see which would stay, and I opened all of the cages.” He turned back to the owl. “Only one came back.”

Celebrimbor set his cup down on the top of one of the cages and approached his grandfather. “I would have returned sooner if I could have,” he said sincerely as he placed his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “I really believe you are wanted, grandfather. Please...consider coming to Tirion with me. I have friends who will be here tomorrow and--”

“No more talking.” Fëanor shrugged Celebrimbor’s hand from his shoulder. “There are beds on the second floor. You may sleep where you wish; eat what you wish.” Fëanor briskly walked back to the door that would lead within. “I wish you a safe journey when you leave tomorrow, never to return, like all the others.” He slammed the door behind him, and Celebrimbor groaned and shook his head. 

“That could have gone better,” Celebrimbor muttered to the owl. He went back into the tower, and although he attempted to find his grandfather to speak to him again, he was unable to find him in the immense tower. Defeated, Celebrimbor found a warm bed for the night. A week of cold and fatigue allowed him to find sleep easily.

\---

“How did it go?” Celebrían’s cheerful voice reminded Celebrimbor of the fact that there were still pleasant things in Valinor despite his failed attempt to draw his grandfather back to civilization.

Celebrimbor shrugged and gave a sad smile. “I tried,” he said as he mounted his horse.

“That was all you were able to do,” Elrond offered. “Perhaps this was just a...first step.”

The memory surged in Celebrimbor again, and he shut his stinging eyes and nodded. “Maybe,” he said softly. He sighed and looked at Celebrían. “I think I am done here for now.” She nodded to him, and the trio turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Celebrimbor was the first to pull his steed back around, and he saw his grandfather at the doorway. The owl was perched on his shoulder, and while Fëanor was dressed in tattered clothing, it was far warmer looking than what he had worn when he retrieved water the day before. “Yes, grandfather?” asked Celebrimbor, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Fëanor walked closer. Celebrían and Elrond held back a few paces, but watched with interest. Fëanor licked his lips and looked over his shoulder at the tower before he looked up at Celebrimbor. “Can your horse carry two riders?” he asked.

With a far different reason for the stinging in his eyes now, Celebrimbor smiled and held his hand out to his grandfather.


End file.
